The Surge Trilogy (Book 2): We, The Grateful Few by P.S. Lurie

The Surge Trilogy (Book 2): We, The Grateful Few by P.S. Lurie

Author:P.S. Lurie [Lurie, P.S.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | Dystopian
Published: 2016-07-04T04:00:00+00:00


Ruskin

A stocky man with silver-speckled dark hair, much older than me, bursts through the door, out of breath. He has blood on his clothes and face but I don’t know if it’s his or someone else’s. As of barely minutes ago, having someone else’s blood on him is not only allowed in the eyes of the Upperlanders but very much encouraged.

“So many kids,” he says, as he takes in my appearance. Then I see his eyes widen and I recognise fear. I don’t know why he doesn’t advance because he could easily overpower me until I presume that I scare him. Why? Of course: whilst he is unarmed I am holding two iron bars in my hands. He doesn’t know my strength or whether I’d be willing to take him on but, for argument’s sake, if I were then it wouldn’t be a fair fight for him.

I use this in my favour and know that I have one more deterrent. I move to the side, revealing the dead boy on the bed. It’s nothing to do with me but my opponent doesn’t need to know that.

“Screw this,” he says, without a delay. “Good luck kid.”

He turns and bolts out of the door.

Only then do I exhale. I feel the weight of the bars. They’re solid. Heavy. In a prison where there is little but bare-knuckled determination, I’ve been given quite an advantage. Still, I know that not every encounter is going to fall in my favour. Besides, there can be ten survivors so others may team up and then I’ll definitely stand no chance.

I silently thank the dead boy and whoever slaved away to eventually give me the bars.

I want to go after Jack but I need to figure out whether moving or staying put for now is the best plan. The door is ajar and I hear faint screams, which solidifies my decision. I have a few hours before the prison is unlocked and have to hope that if Jack is still alive he doesn’t do anything rash and no one bothers him.

“I will come for you,” I say, as I push the door shut. “Don’t give up on me yet.”



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